


Negatives

by SuperImposed



Series: Kinkfills: Happy Smut Edition [11]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Almost Selfcest, Drinking, Kinkfill, M/M, Magically appearing lube, Sex while slightly drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperImposed/pseuds/SuperImposed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How long did they spend on the Battlefield, all alone in a 3x3 board, with absolutely nothing to do except endlessly point swords at each other? I'm sure they would've found something else to do with that time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negatives

**Author's Note:**

> http://community.livejournal.com/homesmut/4645.html?thread=1854245#t1854245
> 
> This was back before I had an account, that should tell you how old it is.

One large, stubby hand upended the flask, draining half the remaining contents. Another wiped the wet mouth, with no idea how much his fellow was focused on it.  
  
The Black King tossed the metal container to his counterpart, who clumsily snatched it from the air. He took a sip, swallowed, and sighed. “How long have we been here, again?”  
  
The King in the opposite corner scowled. “Surely we can find something less depressing to speak of.” He rested his round, massive head on his hand, elbow pressing his knee. In a fit of inspiration with Queen had sent him a chair, which he gladly dragged from corner to corner, square to square, in their useless, unending pattern. The days before the first prototyping were easily the most boring.  
  
The White King blinked. “Oh. Certainly.” He lowered his gaze from the strange stars above.  
  
They sat silent a moment more. The Black King noted his negative’s similar position. “Did your wife send you that?”  
  
The White King looked down. “What- oh, the cushion? Yes.” He tossed the flask back to his opposite.  
  
The Black King caught it and nodded. “That was nice of her…” He suddenly felt a wrenching feeling in his gut. He missed his own sweet Queen, even if she WAS an evil bitch who was probably hate-banging that idiot Noir whilst he was stuck here. He downed the last of the alcohol, trying to douse the feelings.  
  
When he tipped the flask back down, he noticed the White King staring at him with an….intent expression.  
  
“Hey, Black.”  
The Black King blinked. “Yes?”  
“White always loses, right?”  
The Black King’s brow furrowed. “That’s correct, why?”  
His counterpart shrugged. “If I’m fated to lose, to die, why do we even bother with this damn pattern?”  
  
The Black King blinked again. “Er…what are you saying?”

The King seated opposite shrugged. “I’m saying, if everything goes as it should, I’ll get killed or exiled, you’ll get killed or exiled, and…” he sighed “sitting on this damn board circling each other is pointless and boring.”  
  
The Black King stared. “O…kay,” he said, trying to puzzle this out. The White King caught his hesitation.  
  
“I’m saying, we’re both drunk, or at least buzzed, no one’s coming by for another week, and we’ve both left wives behind.” His black gaze penetrated the darker King’s lighter stare.  
  
“….so what, we should have sex?” The White King shrugged.  
  
“Do you see anything better to do in this wasteland?”  
  
The Black King took so long to respond that his double feared he’d completely scared the piece off. They were on surprisingly friendly terms, unable to really deal any damage to each other, couldn’t even move close enough due to the check system-  
  
His train of thought was interrupted by the clatter of a scepter on the opposite side of the field. He looked up to see the Black king shedding his crown and starting to tug at his sleeves. The massive piece noticed the attention. “Well, don’t just sit there,” he groused, blushing through his carapace, “this was your idea, after all…”

It took only a few seconds of fumbling before both were down to their skivvies. Neither tried to look the other in the eye. “So, um…” the Black King flushed further. “how do we…?”  
  
The White King stepped in, his negative following suit. Both stood in the previously unclaimed center square, free to move now that they’d shed their regalia. The White King self-consciously reached out and took the Black’s elbows.  
  
Black stood silent, letting the White rub his thumbs gently along the rounded joints. Slowly the lighter half moved his hands up, stroking up and down the upper arms, the shoulders. Black reached out and lightly ran his fingertips along the other’s barrel chest.  
  
Neither of them made eye contact, easy enough with the soporific effect of the alcohol and the gentle motions each made. No one would have expected the two to be capable of such tenderness, at least until they factored in the size of the males’ wives.  
  
White gently ran his great digits along Black’s joints, fingering the separation and fuse of shell. He lightly brought his fingertips over the shoulders and down the massive torso. Both kings lacked the pectoral and other definition that most Agents had, but they were by no means fat or weak.  
  
Black started dragging his fingers down White’s sides, a little less coordinated. He had drunk a little more alcohol that his opposite, and while neither were lightweights, it had been potent stuff.  
  
White pulled him in a little closer, looking away. Black leaned in and unthinkingly rubbed his head on White’s shoulder. He regretted it as White stiffened, but the other King recovered quickly, stroking the round cranium with a stubby hand. The other drew a line down the inside of Blacks’ chest, making the large monarch shiver, and not out of apprehension.

Black raised his head and ran one fingertip up White’s face, marking the edge of those queer black eyes. Unfortunately, this caused both to make eye contact. Black all but stared, almost expecting the other to turn away. Instead, White leaned in, his breath brushing his copy’s face. In an instant Black followed suit, and the two kissed.  
  
The species lacked lips, but the feeling of two carapaces pulling almost flush, tongues twining, was still pleasant, stimulating sensitive nerves on the face. Black carefully ran his tongue over White’s teeth; like his, much duller than a normal Agent’s. They had little need for it when they would get the lion’s share of the prototypings, and would soon enough grow fangs or claws or spikes or some other paraphernalia. For the moment, though, they simply enjoyed the feeling of a smooth carapace against theirs.  
  
White’s hands began slowly working their way down Black’s thighs, trying not to upset the piece. Black responded, awkwardly as may be, gently thrusting his hips against the White King.  
  
White lightly stroked over the loincloth, white fabric stark against the King. Black moaned slightly into White’s mouth, leaning forward a little more and letting him work. With little effort the pale king divested his dark copy of the garment, and began to gently rub the half-extended length within.  
  
Black almost cried out, pulling away from his opposite at the feeling. White kept it up, coaxing the shelled member into full mast. A short, round finger rubbed over the join of the tip, making the Black King react even more.  
  
Black recovered his senses enough to start copying White, scooping his hand into the loincloth and rubbing two digits against its occupant. White moaned a littler, and Black, knowing exactly how good it felt, began to increase his speed.

In no time at all the two were completely nude, each laying on his side and facing his counterpart. It took some convincing, but Black finally lifted one leg, placing it over White’s side. White gently stroked the large male’s hole, fingers wetted in anticipation. Black whimpered a little as a thick digit entered him, but ground his teeth and took it.  
  
White took Black’s member in his other hand, stroking the shiny black length in time to his shallow thrusts. Soon Black was blissful rather than resisting, and White moved closer, pulling their hips flush. He dampened his fingers again and lubed the hole for good measure, then smoothly replaced the digits with his own shelled dick.  
  
Black stiffened as his opposite entered him, but White’s damp hand kept up its friction on his stiff length, reducing the pain with each smooth, swift stroke. The similarities of their bodies gave White a pretty good idea of what the black piece wanted, and was willing enough to deliver.  
  
Black moaned as White repeated the same performance as his fingers, shallow, rapid thrusts, with a slow withdrawal. Soon enough the White King began to press into his double, a little deeper every few seconds. Eventually he found his way fully inside.  
  
At this point he stopped, holding his hips still, but continuing his efforts with Black’s erection. The discomfort passed, despite their mutually impressive size, and Black began thrusting against White, who readily obliged him.  
  
White slowed his efforts on Black’s member, not wanting to set him off first. Black didn’t seem to mind, as the two humped and pounded with increasing power, if not speed. The he hit something inside the Black King, who gave a surprisingly cute mewl and came hard. His inky cum spattered them both, but White didn’t care because the reaction had made Black’s insides tighten and yes- he was- so-  
  
White came with a low growl, gushing pale fluid inside the spent King. Both laid in silence for a moment, regarding each other.  
  
It was only after they’d redressed, and were sitting once more in their respective corners, that the Black King spoke.  
  
“Next time,” he said, “you bottom.”  
  
White grinned.  



End file.
